


collect your courage, collect your horse

by Cerberusia



Series: at the foot of this hill [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Anonymous Sex, Identity Porn, Incest, M/M, Parent/Child Incest, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-08-31 23:45:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8598523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerberusia/pseuds/Cerberusia
Summary: Kylo Ren meets Han for the first time in years and Han doesn't seem to recognize him with the mask on. Naturally, they have sex.





	

Kylo Ren has passed time on some Outer Rim shitholes in his life, but the Inner-Rim planet Bastatha is trying to put them to shame. The superheated surface means that everything must take place underground in tall caverns which nevertheless manage to be airless and dank. His sole consolation is that the Nikto who are its primary occupants are especially susceptible to mental manipulation.

He's there to acquire some intel from a New Republic senator in the Centrist faction - one of the many who covertly support the First Order. Koftin Mol's family used to have several ties to the upper echelons of Imperial command, and their scion seems eager to renew them with its successors.

The red Nikto crime lord Rinnrivin Di was killed some time ago, but all that means is that another Nikto has risen to take over his crime syndicate - green, this time. Near-humans imbibe spice with their friends in shadowy corners of public houses, and prostitutes lurk on corners. It's disgusting, but it's an independent world where those in charge are already inclined to turn a blind eye.

Koftin Mol, a man of medium size with brown hair that sticks out in tufts, turns over his intel with almost unseemly eagerness. His mind has no trace of suspicion or trickery: he's a sincere believer in the Galactic Empire and its planned return. Kylo Ren stows the data cube he is given and lets Mol leave first, inwardly marvelling at his complete lack of guile.

This isn't an ordinary assignment for him: he isn't usually required to deal with other people, and he certainly isn't sent so far from the First Order's sphere of influence in the Unknown Regions, from which Batastha is well across the galaxy. He gets the feeling that Snoke is testing him, though for what he isn't sure.

His ship is berthed in one of the more secure hangars, but that doesn't mean much on Batastha. He stands and turns for the door - and nearly has to sit down again.

There, at the bar of an Inner Rim shithole, is Han Solo.

He's grey-haired and craggy-faced, but still handsome: an old rogue up to his old tricks. Kylo wonders if he's here for information or materiel for the Resistance, or if he really has gone back to his old ways.

He only realises that he's staring when Han gets up to leave. Kylo almost reaches out; but Han, despite being as Force-sensitive as the average brick, would know Kylo's touch in his mind, so he reins himself in and contents himself with watching Han's face.

Two Nikto, both red, push through the crowd to block his path. Their chins are up, angling their two small front horns at Han in an aggressive pose.

"Not interested, fellas," says Han, splaying his fingers in a placating gesture. The blank-faced Nikto don't back down.

Kylo moves towards the confrontation. The bar's patrons get out of his way.

Han looks up at him briefly before turning his attention back to the Nikto.

"Look, my cargo isn't for your boss: I have a contract to deliver it somewhere else. If your boss is interested, we can negotiate a new shipment for him." He gestures expansively, playing it off casually.

The Nikto step forward. Kylo can see their intentions as clear as day: to drag Han off to their leader by force. They've already tried the Falcon directly, and had Chewbacca roar down the intercom at them for their pains. He sees Han's hand stray towards his blaster.

"Gentlemen," says Kylo. The Nikto startle. Han fixes his eyes on him - Kylo realises that he thinks they're in his employ.

"This isn't your business," snaps one of the Nikto.

"It is now," says Kylo, and reaches up to take each of them by the throat, compressing their breathing tubes.

"Leave us," he tells them, pushing the order into their minds with the Force. Wheezing, they do. They'll tell their master, of course: but Kylo will be gone by then, and with his smuggler's luck so will Han.

He turns to Han before the old spacer can melt into the crowd and leave the planet. Han puts on a lazy smile.

"Thanks for helping me out there, pal," he says. He's only pretending to be relaxed, of course: he's already mapped the exits and calculated how fast he can go for his blaster.

There's nobody else paying attention to them. Kylo leans in a little. He's taller than Han - would be taller even without the boots and mask. Up close, time and grief have worn deep lines around Han's mouth.

"Here, lemme buy you a drink. Uh, if you drink." That was always Han's way of defusing a confrontation, Kylo remembers: hearty back-slapping familiarity. It was a testament to the force of his charm that it usually worked.

Kylo leans in closer.

"There's something I'd like more." The vocal distorter makes it sound like a threat, but to give credit to Han, he catches Kylo's meaning in a couple of tense seconds.

"Uh-huh," he says slowly. "And there I was, about to leave because I thought the masked guy in the corner wanted me wearing my guts on the outside."

Kylo swallows. The vocoder catches the dry click of his throat.

"No," he says. And in a sudden fit of daring, he reaches out one hand - slowly, so as not to alarm Han - to lightly press his fingertips to Han's stomach, then draw them down until they naturally fall away from Han's body.

Han lets Kylo touch him without reaction. He studies him with narrowed, but not unfriendly eyes.

"Look," he says at last, "I've got nothing against xenos - I like Twi'lek girls as much as the next guy - but I like to be sure we're _compatible_ , and you could be anything under that helmet." He says it casually, but Kylo sees his hand rests just next to his blaster, in case things turn ugly.

Kylo extends his hand and peels back the black leather glove to reveal the pale, unblemished human skin at his wrist.

"Huh." Han looks less edgy. "Does the mask come off?"

"No."

Han looks him up and down lazily, a gesture that Kylo knows conceals rapid weighing up of the pros and cons. Kylo would arrange himself into a more provocative attitude, but he hasn't a clue how to do that in encasing armour. He's not completely sure how to do it without it, either.

"Well," Han says at last, "we can't go to mine, I'm afraid: my copilot wouldn't like it. You got a room here?" As if anyone would leave their ship unguarded on Bastatha while they slept in a den of thieves.

"I have a ship," Kylo says.

"Great. Lead on." And Han twinkles at him, like the charming rogue he is. Kylo hates to recognise that he's not immune. He turns on his heel and leads Han out of the disgusting bar and to the west hangar.

His ship isn't the ostentatious black shuttle he usually flies: something so obviously Imperial in style would gain too much attention here. But the small, heavily modified Mandalorian craft suits his needs. Han's boots clang on the boarding ramp: Kylo doesn't need to look round to know that he's working out where the modifications are, which other ships have been cannibalised, and how much it would sell for.

The boarding ramp comes up. Kylo and Han are left completely alone in the low artificial light.

"Well," says Han, "I'd say 'Give us a kiss', but..." He sways closer and closes his hands on Kylo's hips through his thick padded armour. His thumbs rub the sharp edges of Kylo's hipbones. The intimacy sends hot lightning up Kylo's spine. He doesn't know what to do with his hands.

Han tilts his head up and leans in close so Kylo's vision is filled with his face. His eyes close. After a moment, Kylo realises that he's pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the mask, just where his mouth would be. The image of Han sensually kissing the cold black mask sends a harsh bolt of sexual arousal through him.

"Take off your clothes," says Kylo. The distorter disguises the shake in his voice, but gives his open-mouthed breaths an edge of static.

So casually, Han starts to unbutton his shirt. He flings it behind him to land over the back of the co-pilot's chair, following it with the rest of his clothes until he stands unselfconsciously naked on the cool metal deck of Kylo's ship. Kylo stares at him, raking his eyes over him from top to toe, taking in the body of a fit man in middle age who's lived a hard life. Still powerful, but worn and marked, the hair on his chest gone gray. His eyes catch on familiar and unfamiliar scars, safe behind the mask.

Kylo has seen Han undressed before, of course, in another life: they've both had the modesty squeezed out of them years ago, Han by necessity and Kylo by spending his teenage years in a dorm with communal showers. What he has never seen, though he has often thought about it, is Han with an erection. The wrenching throb of desire goes right through him.

He steps forward and takes Han's cock in his gloved fist. It's warm and smooth through the leather, and Han sighs with pleasure.

Kylo pulls off his gloves with trembling fingers and puts his bare palm to his father's flesh. If it were really so wrong, he thinks, this touch would burn him right up: the Force would seek to redress the imbalance.

"Here, get yours off," says Han. Kylo unbelts his armored tabard and pulls it over his head followed by his long-sleeved tunic, careful of the mask, then opens his leggings and pulls them down to mid thigh. He sees Han's eyebrows go up, and feels smug. He grew out of lingering teenage gangliness not long after he became who he is now. His physical frame is a reflection of the power within.

Han reaches out and takes Kylo's erection in a firm grip, working the foreskin over the head a few times. Kylo whimpers in the back of his throat before he can catch himself.

"So which way are we doing this?" Han asks. "Do you fuck?"

"Yes," says Kylo, a little breathily. It's technically true, in the sense that he's willing to try it now. He considers which way he wants Han for a long moment, toying with the ideas of fucking and being fucked by him as Han continues to play with his cockhead almost casually: but eventually he pulls away and goes to bend over the command console, presenting Han with his ass. "Like this."

Han laughs. "You'd have this old man screw you over a console? Have mercy." His voice turns lascivious: "Nice view, though."

Kylo doesn't want to take Han to his sleeping quarters: it feels too revealing, though he knows that his few personal items are safely stowed, including his lightsaber. He spreads his legs further apart, hoping to entice Han to do it anyway.

Han's boots clang on the deck and big warm hands land on his hips.

"You got stuff?" Han's thumbs rub over his hipbones.

For one awful moment, Kylo thinks he doesn't. Then he remembers, fighting the instinct to just grab it with the Force:

"The head, black bag." There's nothing incriminating among his scant toiletries, is there? He keeps his head down and his legs wide apart, very aware of how this position makes him look like he's gagging for it. At least, he hopes so. Han had seemed too distracted by his bare chest to care about the mask. Maybe he assumed that Kylo was horribly disfigured beneath it. Or just very ugly.

"Lube yes, condoms no." Of course - Kylo, not anticipating sexual intercourse, doesn't carry them. "Now, I'm chipped, so unless you've been in Wild Space recently there's nothing you could be carrying that I could catch. It also means I've got nothing I could pass to you, but I understand you might not want to take my word for it." How can he be so _calm_ , Kylo wants to know, when his own heart is hammering out of his chest?

"No, I'm chipped too." Kylo swallows. "And I've not been into Wild Space for years." Not since he went to find a kyber crystal for his lightsaber, in fact. "I believe you," he adds when Han doesn't get on with it. "Come on, fuck me." The anticipation is making his balls ache.

"Still keen, huh?" The bubble of lubricant being squeezed out of its tube. "Good." Then the pad of Han's fingertip touching the exposed rim of his asshole: Kylo feels it contract at the feeling of the cold lube and shivers.

"That's what you get for being impatient." Han presses his fingertip into Kylo, breaching him in the way that Kylo's own fingers have breached him night after night.

"No, I like it cold," Kylo mumbles. Han's fingertip rubs slowly around his entrance, playing with the nerves there. Kylo shifts his weight from side to side, caught by the strange and pleasurable sensations.

"Then you're the first person I've met who does." Han pulls his finger out, then presses it back in deeper - not to any apparent purpose, just as though he's enjoying feeling Kylo's body open around him. It lights Kylo up inside and makes him squirm at the sweet teasing pressure.

Han takes his finger out and doesn't put it back in. Kylo waits impatiently as he hears slick sounds from behind him.

Then Han's hand - his clean hand - reaches between his legs and gropes him, squeezing his balls. Kylo makes a ragged noise and rubs the cold steel of his mask against the console. " _Do_ it," he says. He's not going to beg. He wishes he could just slip into Han's head, but that would give him away at once.

Han snorts. "Yeah, you're ready," he says. Then he puts the blunt head of his cock to press against Kylo's asshole, and Kylo nearly stops breathing.

The pressure increases as the flared head opens him up further - until it pops in. It feels huge inside him, rubbing against all the sensitive nerves at his entrance. Behind him, Han lets out a low sigh.

"You're tight, kid," he tells him, and Kylo hates that he finds a cliché like that sexy. "How old are you?"

"None of your business," says Kylo in a tight voice, feeling his asshole contracting fitfully around the head of Han's cock like it's trying to push it out. He's twenty-three, and he hates that Han has guessed his youth. "Get _on_ with it."

Han pushes in the rest of his cock so quickly that Kylo's next breath comes out as a squeak. He crumples over the console. It feels like the thick, burning rod of Han's dick is the only solid thing in him. It opens him up, fills him up, stretches him beyond his limits. It hurts _gloriously_. Kylo's cock jerks and for a moment he thinks he might come on the spot.

Then Han starts fucking him, and his mind dissolves. Han forces his cock inside him again and again, forcing Kylo to give way. Kylo clutches at the console, overwhelmed by the pleasure of Han's cock stroking his inner walls, scraping over his prostate and making stars bloom behind his eyelids. He makes little whimpering moans with every thrust that his helmet amplifies embarrassingly along with his desperate harsh breathing. He can barely process how good it feels having Han fuck him.

Han bends over him, his fingers digging bruises into Kylo's hips. Kylo can feel the heat of his body where he stands between Kylo's thighs, all the places Han's skin touches his. He concentrates on Han's hard breathing in his ear, hot panting on his neck. The thick cock pistoning in and out of his ass keeps sending hot liquid shocks through his abdomen with every hard thrust. He can hear himself moaning, hideously distorted through the vocoder.

" _Ben,_ " says Han in his ear. _Ben?_ Kylo thinks, tingles of pleasure gathering at the base of his cock. The sound doesn't mean anything. He can feel his own pulse pounding in his neck.

Then he realises what Han just called him.

Only the fact that Han is still fucking him, scrambling his concentration, prevents him from diving into his mind at once. When was he recognised? Did Han know all along? _When did he give himself away?_

"Ben," Han gasps again, grinding his cock against Kylo's prostate and making him cry out. He doesn't sound like a man who's recognised his prodigal son; he just sounds like he's focussed on reaming Kylo right through the console.

Kylo sees it, crystal clear: he hasn't been recognised at all.

Han presses down Kylo's neck with one hand, pushing his face into the console. Kylo tries to raise his ass higher, tries to get Han to fuck him harder. He thinks he might be drooling as he moans guttural encouragement. How many young men has Han fucked while thinking of him? His cock aches untouched between his legs and he frees one hand from his deathgrip on the console to squeeze at it roughly.

The pressure builds in his abdomen, the muscles drawing tight, his breath coming in great shuddery gasps. He fists his dick hard and rocks his hips into Han's thrusts. Han groans his old name into his ear again and sucks a mark onto his neck, worrying the skin between his teeth.

Han fucks him into a cramped, white-out orgasm: the kind where the pleasure is so intense it's almost painful. Lightning races up Kylo's spine and his hips jerk back and forth out of his control and he groans like he's been shot, helpless ragged sounds rendered into static.

Han's deft fingers release the catches of the mask. It comes away from his head easily in two parts. Han sends them spinning across the console. The artificial light is blinding.

Kylo is still gasping for breath and shuddering when Han goes still behind him, his cock hard and pulsing as he comes inside Kylo with a low throttled moan. Kylo thinks he can feel the hot jets of his father's semen wash into him, fill him up. He squeezes his eyes shut.

Han gently lowers his torso so he lies atop Kylo, both of them still braced over the console. Kylo easily takes the weight. They really should have done this in a bed. They shouldn't have done it at all. Kylo feels horribly naked without his mask. Han wasn't supposed to _know_.

"Ben," he says softly into Kylo's ear. "I knew it was you." He tenderly brushes hair away from Kylo's face. Kylo keeps his eyes turned away. "The moment you took your clothes off, I knew. Did you think I wouldn't remember my own son's body? You've grown up, but you've kept these." He kisses Kylo's back, next to the second vertebra: there must be a mole there. Kylo remembers the constellation of marks on his chest - three little brown moles in a triangle next to his left nipple - and realises that he revealed himself the moment he disrobed. Stupid: he hadn't thought of that at all.

Han's voice drops even lower:

"I said yes because I thought it might be you." More kisses, trailing along his shoulder and up his neck. Kylo doesn't breathe. "Something in the way you walked." Fingers stroke his arms, far thicker and stronger than they were last time he and Han saw each other.

"We love you, Ben. Come home with me. Your mother misses you very much." Han's voice is low, intimate and compelling. He'd forgotten what it was like to have all his father's attention on him.

"I can't," Ben croaks. "I can't go back." There had been so many bodies when he had finished, scattered and slumped throughout the Praxeum. He burnt all his bridges thoroughly - in case he might ever wish to re-cross them. He was done with being ignored.

"I don't care." Han takes a ragged breath. "I know what you did, and we can - sort it out. Come with me first, just the two of us." There's a pause before he adds, very quietly:

"Please, Ben, you're breaking my heart."

A great pressure is building in his chest and head. Han cannot _possibly_ think that they can run off, just the two of them, and not face consequences. Overwhelmed, Ben instinctively searches his father's mind for the truth.

In Han's mind, he finds two things: overwhelming love, and overwhelming grief. Both are for him, the purest and strongest of their kind he's ever felt.

He plucks an image from Han's mind: the two of them on the _Falcon_ 's bridge, Han at the controls, Ben tinkering with some piece of metal. His hair is tied up, like he used to pull it back sometimes when it got in the way. It has the sheen of a fond memory, but Han and Ben appear the ages they are now. This is what Han wants.

Ben has been resisting the call of the Light for seven years now. He isn't Ben any more. He's envisioned coming face-to-face with Leia Organa or Han Solo many times: he's plotted out exactly what he would say, exactly what he would do, exactly how he would feel when he looked each of them in the eyes and cut them down. He day-dreams of torturing them and finds the thoughts sexually arousing. He's worked hard to achieve his true potential in the Dark after a childhood of voices in his head and everybody lying to him.

He hadn't anticipated having to do it with his father's come dripping out of his ass, his father's hot weight crushing him into the console.

"Sweetheart," Han murmurs, and kisses his neck.

The pressure swells unbearably. Ben bursts into loud, undignified, uncontrollable sobbing.

"Shhh, shhhh," says Han as he separates them, pulling Ben up, perhaps to embrace him properly - but Ben stumbles and they both end up on the cold metal grille of the deck.

Ben crawls into his father's lap - not that he fits any more, but he does his best - and puts his head on Han's shoulder, his face in his neck.

"Dad," he mumbles through great gasping sobs. "Dad, please." He doesn't know what he's asking for. Han cradles him in his arms like he did when Ben was a child, murmuring soothing nonsense as he rocks them back and forth.

Ben is a hollow vessel, a black hole that cannot be filled. No-one can give him enough love to fill him up: there is nothing in him to hold it, it just pours straight through.

"Ben," says Han again, pressing kisses to his hair. Ben can feel his voice rumbling in his chest. He cries harder, and holds on tight.

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt at tfa-kink:
> 
> "Pre-TFA. Kylo Ren meets Han for the first time in years and Han doesn't seem to recognize him with the mask on. He's long harbored lustful feelings for his father, and seeing him like this, Ren thinks it's his chance to finally sleep with him. Things seem to be going according to plan, until Han accidentally calls him Ben while they're fucking."


End file.
